Stubborn Love
by icesk8ter14
Summary: A series of interconnected songfics, following Brittana from the outing to their breakup and beyond. Canon up to "The Mash-Off" Brittana! M for heavy swearing, and possible sexual content in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This song came up on shuffle the other day and this little idea popped into my head. I used it as motivation to get the writing for my other Brittana story "To Find a Home" done, I wouldn't let myself do this until I had another chapter posted.**

**This is canon up until episode 6 of season 3, "The Mash Off." This is my version of what Brittany could've done to reassure Santana at another joint Glee Club meeting, after the whole "slapping Finn and being outed soon" incident. Hope you enjoy!**

****I own nothing, not Glee, not any of these characters, and not the song "Stubborn Love," by the Lumineers. Consider this disclaimed.**

...

Santana was furious. No, that was an understatement. She was livid. Furious. Irate. All those other ACT words she had to know. God, she'd never been so goddamn pissed. And now she was sitting in _another _joint Glee Club practice, and Brittany wasn't even here to take the edge off.

She wasn't just mad of course, she was terrified too, but she couldn't let anyone else know that. Damn Hudson, this was her _life_ he was fucking with. She may not always have had the nicest things to say, but nothing she said was going to affect his reputation, his life. He wasn't about to be outed to the entire fucking state.

She felt an almost imperceptible shift in the room, and she looked up, knowing Brittany had just walked in. She didn't know how she knew, it was just something they could always do, sense proximity, ever since they were little. It was like two magnets, the closer together they were, the stronger the pull.

Brittany didn't even glance her way, though. She just walked straight over to Ms. Corcoran and Mr. Schuester and started talking quietly to them. She looked a little nervous, but they both smiled and started nodding. She walked over to the piano and handed Brad some sheet music.

Mr. Schue walked into the middle of the room and everyone quieted down, as Brittany dragged a stool over behind him so she could sit near the piano.

"Ok, everyone, Brittany has something she'd like to share with all of us. Brittany?"

Santana could see her take a shaky breath as Mr. Schue sat down.

"Ok. Well, um, this doesn't exactly fit with the mash-up assignment, but I figured that would be ok since we did it yesterday. This is a song for someone that's really special to me. She can be super stubborn sometimes, but I know she can't always be strong by herself, and I wanted her to know that even though sometimes she hurts the people she cares about, even when she doesn't mean to, it's gonna be ok. I wrote it myself, it's not quite as good as 'My Cup,' but it means a lot to me. It's called, "Stubborn Love." I know I usually don't sing, but there are some things that I really just can't say any other way."

Blue eyes meet brown as the first piano chord rings out. The tune is familiar, but Santana can't quite place it.

_She'll lie and steal and cheat,_

_And beg you from her knees,_

_Make you think she means it this time._

_She'll tear a hole in you,_

_The one you can't repair,_

_But I still love her, I don't really care._

Santana could practically see the memories that were playing through Brittany's head with the song. Images of herself showing up on her doorstep, begging her to tell her she still loved her after a night at Puck's, promising she'd never do it again. Images of herself flying off the handle in a panic, insisting she's not gay, blaming Brittany for everything. The pain in those blue eyes.

_When we were young, oh, oh, _

_We did enough,_

_When it got cold, ooo, ooo, _

_We bundled up,_

_I can't be told, ah, ah,_

_It can't be done._

_It's better to feel pain,_

_Then nothing at all,_

_The opposite of love's indifference,_

_So pay attention now,_

_I'm standing on your porch, screaming out,_

_And I won't leave until you come downstairs._

The night of their first time. She'd run out, ran home. Brittany followed after her and thrown rocks at her window for an hour, and then proceeded to sit on her porch for three more, until Santana's mom finally forced her to go down and "figure it out."

_So keep your head up, keep your love,_

_Keep your head up, my love,_

_Keep your head up, my love,_

_Keep your head up, keep your love._

_And I don't blame you, dear,_

_For running like you did, all these years,_

_I would do the same, you best believe._

_And the highway signs say we're close,_

_But I don't read those things anymore,_

_I never trusted my own eyes._

She knew where she recognized the tune from now. She had heard Brittany fiddling with it on her piano a few weeks ago when she had arrived at her house on a Friday night. Most people didn't know Britt had taken piano lessons when she was little, but she liked to keep practicing, even if she wasn't taking the anymore. Even Santana didn't know she wrote music, though.

_When we were young, oh, oh, _

_We did enough,_

_When it got cold, ooo, ooo, _

_We bundled up,_

_I can't be told, ah, ah,_

_It can't be done._

_So keep your head up, keep your love,_

_Keep your head up, my love,_

_Keep your head up, my love,_

_Keep your head up, keep your love._

_Head up, love_

_Head up, love_

_Head up, love._

As her alto voice trembled out the last notes, Brittany hopped off her stool, walked directly over to Santana, and sat down. The entire room was dead silent, stunned.

Mr. Schuester was the first to speak.

"Brittany, that was beautiful. I had no idea you could write songs like that."

"Thanks," Brittany muttered, fiddling with her and Santana's hands in her lap.

Santana tilted Brittany's chin up and locked her dark eyes with cerulean ones, shining with unshed tears. If she could have this girl by her side, through all this, she would be fine. This beautiful, bright, strong, wonderful, angelic girl, could make the enormous mess that was her life, ok with a single song. She pressed their lips together gently, knowing all eyes in the rooms were on them. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Pulling back slightly, she whispered, "I love you."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey everyone! So originally Stubborn Love was meant to be a one shot, but I kept hearing all these songs and weaving them into Brittana stories (I need a life, I know) so I decided to continue it as a series of interconnected but standalone little Brittana encounters. I'll twist canon as I please, and continue on to their adult lives as well.**

**I'm not sure if they'll all be in order, but I'll try to keep them easy to follow and offer a little summary at the beginning of each one.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of these songs or any that I will use in the future.**

**So this takes place around their junior year in college (they're approximately 20-21). Everyone is home for Thanksgiving. Brittana broke up at the same time, for the same reasons as they did in canon, and slowly lost touch. Now they're both in Lima, and see each other at karaoke night at Breadstix. Let's find out how it goes…**

***Note: Italics are Santana's thoughts, Italics with quotes are songs.**

Chapter 2: Every Time I Hear Your Name & Pink Bullets

Breastix was crowded; crammed with families reunited for Thanksgiving, out celebrating at one of the nicer restaurants that Lima had to offer (there weren't many of them). It was karaoke night, a Wednesday, and Santana was out with Mercedes, Rachel, Blaine and Kurt. It was great to see everyone again, even if it did fucking suck to be back in Lima. It would always be her hometown, but it wasn't her home anymore. That wasn't the only reason she didn't want to be here though.

She caught a flash of blonde hair across the restaurant.

_Brittany._

_Of course she would be here. _She hadn't missed a family holiday since her first year at MIT, and she always had loved Breadstix; it made sense that she had dragged Mike, Sam, Artie, Tina, and some brunette that she didn't recognize out for karaoke night.

_God, what an awkward bunch. Let's see, there was Artie and Brittany, Sam and Brittany, Artie and Tina, Mike and Tina, that one awkward make-out session between Sam and Tina she'd heard about a few years ago…but Brittany never did understand the concept of exes. She wanted to be friends with everybody. It didn't make sense to her that exes couldn't ever really be friends…that's why it hurt so much that they hadn't spoken in months…hadn't spoken of anything important for even longer. Who is that with them anyway? They're being awfully touchy-feely, her and Britt._

Of course they'd tried the whole "still best friends" thing after they'd broken up, but it just never would've worked. They couldn't stand to talk to each other about dating, and there's only so much you can say to each other before it all starts getting repetitive when you can't stay on any deep topics without your heart feeling like it's shrinking from everything that's missing. So they'd drifted apart.

"Earth to Satan!" Kurt was snapping his fingers in her face.

"Cool your shit, Porcelain, what do you want?"

"I had asked," Rachel jumped in, "if you're going to honor us with a song tonight?"

They were still on again off again friends, had been for years. Funny Girl was a massive success, and they'd eventually gotten over the ridiculous argument over it well enough to have lots of other ridiculous arguments. Rachel was doing well on Broadway, but Santana had decided it wasn't for her, which made getting along that much easier. They still lived together; Kurt had gotten a place with Blaine when he moved to New York after high school, leaving to two of them with a lot more space, but no desire to move. So they stayed, Rachel attending classes at NYADA, Santana attending NYU part-time for business.

"Well of course, Hobbit, someone's going to have to stop the ear bleeding from all the mediocre to offensively terrible voices in this town. With the exception of those at this table, of course. Besides, you, Hair-gel, and Aretha already performed, I suppose it's my duty to close out the evening."

"Looks like you might have to wait, girl." Mercedes gestured at the stage. A bubbly voice spoke up.

_Fucking hell._

"Hi everyone! I'm Brittany S. Pierce! I'm not usually much of a singer, (_bullshit, she might love dancing, but Brittany sang to herself while she did chores, while she danced, walking around school, getting ready to go out, pretty much all the time) _but this has been one of my favorite songs for the past few years, so I thought I'd share it all with you tonight! I hope you enjoy it."

A guitar chord rang out of the giant speakers onstage, and Brittany gripped the microphone.

_She always was a closet country fan. Used to be more ashamed of that than her sexuality. Go figure._

_"Finally got over that song of ours,_

_Stopped chasing little red sports cars,_

_To check their license plates,_

_And I quit driving by your place,_

_Back making the rounds at our old haunts,_

_Honkey tonks, restaurants,_

_Seeing some of our old friends, _

_Feels good to dance again."_

She gave a little twirl and smiled into the song, which actually seemed to be kind of sad; its upbeat tempo was deceiving.

_"I can finally smell your perfume_

_And not look around the room for you,_

_And I can walk right by your picture in a frame,_

_And not feel a thing._

_But when I hear your name,_

_I feel rain, falling right out of the blue sky,_

_And it's the fifth of May,_

_And I'm right there staring in your eyes,_

_That's all it takes,_

_And I'm in that place,_

_I get lost in the innocence of a first kiss,_

_And I'm hanging on,_

_To every word falling off of your lips,_

_And nothing's changed,_

_We're still the same,_

_Every time I hear your name."_

_Seriously!? She's up there, singing that damn song, everyone here who knows us knows what she's singing about, fuck. Goddammit Brittany. Does the word "personal" have no meaning to you?_

It didn't, she knew. Brittany wasn't someone for keeping anything a secret, that is, unless Santana specifically explained what to keep secret and why. As hard as the song was hitting her, she couldn't look away. She felt the same. Rachel and Kurt knew it, and after the breakup, neither of them had ever mentioned Brittany unless Santana had brought her up first. Even then, they had spoken of her rarely. All four of her friends at the table seemed to be torn between watching Brittany and watching Santana's reaction. She could feel their eyes on her, but she ignored it.

_"Got someone special in my life,_

_Everyone thinks she'll make a great wife,_

_Dad says he thinks she's 'the one,'_

_Reminds him of mom when she was young,"_

A wink and a blown kiss aimed at the table she'd been sitting at, or, more specifically, at the mystery brunette, who mimed catching it. _What the actual fuck? Fine. She wants to flaunt it like that? She wants to force me to think about our failed relationship? I can play that game too._

_"But it's way too soon to be talking about rings,_

_Don't wanna rush into anything,_

_She's getting over someone too,_

_Kinda like me and you,_

_She talks about him every once in a while, _

_And I just nod my head and smile,_

_'Cause I know exactly what she's going through,_

_Yeah, I've been there too._

_When the conversation turns to you,_

_I get caught, in a "you were the only one for me,"_

_Kind of thought,_

_And your face is all that I see,_

_I know I can't go back,_

_But I still go back,_

_And there we are,_

_Parked down by the riverside,_

_And I'm in your arms,_

_About to make love for the first time,_

_That's all it takes,_

_And I'm in that place,_

_Every time I hear your name._

_I've stopped thinking about the words I left unsaid,_

_Stopped trying to change the things that I can't change,_

_In my heart I know you're gone,_

_But in my head,_

_I feel rain, falling right out of the blue sky,_

_And it's the fifth of May,_

_And I'm right there staring in your eyes,_

_That's all it takes,_

_And I'm in that place,_

_And there we are,_

_Parked down by the riverside,_

_And I'm in your arms,_

_About to make love for the first time,_

_And I can't explain,_

_But I'm in that place,_

_Every time I hear your name._

_Every time I hear your name."_

Half of the restaurant was on its feet; it was rare that karaoke night at Breadstix got such a fantastic, emotional performance.

_Well they're gonna get another one. Britt hates sad songs? That fucking sucks then doesn't it?_

"You don't have to go up you know, Santana. We could just go…"Rachel trails off.

"No. I have the perfect song. It's fine." She rose from the table and made her way to the DJ. Whispering in his ear, he nodded, and she took the stage.

"Hey, everyone. I'm Santana Lopez. You may recognize me as the girl from that Broadway musical, Funny Girl?"

"One time! Io got food poisoning and you were in it one time!" she hears from the crowd and grins.

"Aaaaanyway, that last performance is going to be a hard one to follow," She looks at Brittany, and is perturbed to see blue eyes staring wide-eyed at her in surprise. Maybe she hadn't noticed she was even there; maybe it wasn't out of spite that she'd performed that song with her new girlfriend in plain sight. "But, I hope you're in for something a little mellower. Here it is, "Pink Bullets.""

As the beginning strains of a mournful harmonica sound from the speakers, she takes a deep breath and pours her smoky alto into the song.

"_I was just bony hands, _

_As cold as a winter pole,_

_You held a warm stone out, _

_New flowing blood to hold._

_Oh, what a contrast you were,_

_With the brutes in the halls,_

_My timid young fingers held_

_A decent animal."_

The first day of third grade. She'd been silent, moody. She hadn't wanted to move; she hated this new school. She'd been pushed around in the hall, shoved down by the boys. A little girl with blond pigtails had run over and grabbed her hand, and she'd held on for dear life.

_"Over the ramparts you tossed,_

_The scent of your skin,_

_And some foreign flowers._

_Tied to a brick,_

_Sweet as a song,_

_The years have been short,_

_But the days were long._

_Cool of a temperate breeze,_

_From dark skies to wet grass,_

_We fell in a field, _

_It seems now a thousand summers past._

_When our kite lines first crossed,_

_We tied them into knots._

_To finally fly apart,_

_We had to cut them off."_

Their lives had been intertwined since then, impossibly tangled. It wasn't "Santana," or "Brittany," only "Santana and Brittany," or "Brittany and Santana." Then all of a sudden, it wasn't.

_"Since then it's been a book_

_You read in reverse,_

_So you understand less as the pages turn,_

_Or a movie so crass,_

_And awkwardly cast,_

_That even I could be the star._

_I don't look back much as a rule._

_And all this,_

_Way before murder was cool,_

_But your memory is here,_

_And I'd like it to stay, _

_A warm light,_

_On a winter's day."_

She'd refused to even acknowledge the emeries for a long time. But after a while, even that pain starts to dull to an aching throb, rather than a sharp stab at every move. And eventually, she imagined, those memories could be happy again, instead of just reminder of everything that's lost, like everything else in this godforsaken place.

_"Over the ramparts you tossed,_

_The scent of your skin,_

_And some foreign flowers._

_Tied to a brick,_

_Sweet as a song,_

_The years have been short,_

_But the days go slowly by,_

_Two loose kites, falling from the sky,_

_Drawn to the ground,_

_And an end to flight."_

After all this, it was still over, and when she glanced at Brittany and saw blue eyes squinted, holding back tears, while her brunette wrapped an arm around her shoulder and whispered something in her ear, pulling her up, Santana didn't feel vindicated, just sick. Listening to the clapping of the audience, she walked off the stage and sat down at her table.

Seeing her friends concerned glances, but barely hearing their inquisitions as to whether or not she was alright, she waved them off. She was fine. Or at least she would be.

**A/N: So sad! Don't worry, they won't all be angsty! (although the next few will). And for anyone reading my other story, To Find a Home, Firstly, you're awesome, and secondly, I will be updating soon! I have lots of ideas, just need time to actually write them!**

**One last thing, if you want me to do a song, leave a review and let me know what song you'd like me to write a chapter for! The two in this chapter were "Every Time I Hear Your Name" by Keith Anderson, and "Pink Bullets" by The Shins. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hi again everyone! **

**Again, disclaimer disclaimer, I don't own anything.**

**So this takes place about a year after the previous chapter, December of their senior year in college, a little before finals (everyone's 21-22ish). Enjoy, and I apologize in advance for the angst. You have been warned.**

**S**

Chapter 3: Wine After Whiskey

"Santana! I come bearing Thai food and ice cream! Get your head out of that book and come relax for an hour!"

_God. Berry._

"Fine, I'm coming, I'm coming! What do you want?"

When Santana reached the kitchen, she noticed first, that Berry hadn't gotten the disgusting vegan ice cream substitute she usually got, but real Ben and Jerry's Mint Chocolate Cookie, second, that she looked waaaaay too happy to be happy for real (she might be a Broadway sensation for her performing, but her acting still tended to be a little over the top) and third, that there were no movies on the coffee table. Thai food and movies, it had become a "don't kill yourself before finals" tradition for them. Something was up.

"What's up, Berry?" She asked, in a slightly more restrained tone.

"Sit down Santana, we need to talk."

...

**Earlier that day:**

_Rrrriiiing…Rrrriiiing…click_

**_"Hello?"_**

"Rachel? It's Brittany."

**_"Brittany! To what do I owe the pleasure? It's been too long! Did Santana lose her phone? I can have her call you tonight when I get home if you want―"_**

"You know we haven't spoken in over a year Rachel." Brittany sounded defeated, like there was something other than her and Santana's lack of communication weighing on her mind.

**_"Yeah. I know."_** Rachel was quiet for a moment.

**_"Is something wrong Brittany?" _**She hears sniffs on the other line.

"I know you're going to think it's really weird that I called you and not any of my friends here, or Quinn because she might know what to do, but I really wanted to talk to Santana and I can't so then I called you because you're the closest person to her right now that I talk to, other than Kurt and he's a boy, even if he is a unicorn, he wouldn't understand."

**_"Well, I promise I'll try to understand and maybe be helpful, but you'll have to inform me of the problem first―"_**

"I'm pregnant. Please, I don't want Santana to hear it through the grapevine in six months, could you tell her? Pretend you heard while you were in Lima last weekend or something? I just-I can't-I wouldn't know what to say to her."

**_"What are you going―"_**

"I'm keeping it."

**_"And the father?"_**

"Wants nothing to do with it. I don't care. I don't want his money. I can do it myself. Just tell her for me, ok? I'll keep you updated, and put it in the email chain in a few months."

**_"O-ok."_**

"Thanks Rachel." _Click._

_... _

Santana stared at Rachel with wide eyes.

"Pregnant?"

Rachel nodded.

"I'm going to bed. I don't have any classes tomorrow, I work at 9. I'll talk to you when I get home from work. Don't even look at me until then, if you want to keep your eyes. Clear?"

Rachel nodded again; the concerned look in her eyes told Santana that she knew that the threats were just her way of covering up how hurt she was. That Brittany was pregnant, that she wouldn't tell her herself, that she insisted on doing it alone. She grabbed the ice cream, stopped to get a spoon and an almost full bottle of whiskey out of the kitchen, and walked into her room.

...

_Bzzzzzzzzz… Bzzzzzzzzzz…smack! Crash._

Santana groaned. She just wanted to stop the buzzing, she didn't mean to smack the alarm and throw it across the room, honest.

The pounding in her skull only got worse when she sat up. She grabbed her phone off of her nightstand. 7:30 p.m.

She sat it back on her nightstand and realized a.) why she'd slept all day, and b.) why she felt like there was a tiny person inside her head with a mallet.

The bottle of whiskey she'd grabbed last night was empty. Next to it was a Gatorade and a bottle of aspirin. _God bless Rachel Berry._

She took the pills and chugged the Gatorade, knowing she had to be at least semi functional and look decent for work, and that she'd feel almost human after a shower.

Her routine took a little longer than it usually did, but she still managed to catch the subway in time to get to work on time. She shoved all thoughts of the previous day out of her mind, and waltzed in, right on time.

She had found a job about six months earlier as a singer at a quiet jazz bar; her smoky voice and penchant for jazz and soul made her an instant hit with the owner when she'd auditioned, and since she no longer had to work during the day, she'd been able to take on a full time class load and would only be graduating a semester late.

Taking the stage, she surveyed the Thursday night crowd. There was barely anyone there, a few men brooding into their drinks, a couple in the corner who looked like they could care less what she sang, and a woman at the bar who looked to be watching her. Her features were hidden in the low light, but Santana looked at her a moment longer anyway.

Santana loved nights like this, because she could take a few more liberties with her song choices; quiet and mellow was god on nights like this, people wanted something that would fade into the background. She was well into her set when she thought of the perfect song for tonight. It wasn't exactly jazz, but it was slow enough that it could pass, with her style. She whispered to the piano played, and he struck up the tune.

She took a deep breath, and let everything she'd felt in the last 24 hours wash over her. One more night of self-pity, and she'd be done. She wouldn't think of it again.

_"Once upon a time_

_Our world was on fire,_

_And I loved to watch it burn._

_Wild and reckless,_

_Never any limits._

_Guess I had a lot to learn._

_'Cause fire turns to embers,_

_Embers to ashes,_

_That blow away too soon._

_Now everything after you _

_Is like having wine after whiskey._

_It went from_

_'Do anything for you, babe,' to_

_You don't even miss me._

_Once you've tasted a love that strong,_

_You can't go back, and _

_You can't settle on anything less_

_And that's what gets me._

_It's like having wine after whiskey."_

Santana looked around the club for the first time since she started the song, and noticed that she'd killed even the small buzz of conversation that had been present before. Everyone was riveted by the obvious pain in the roughness of her voice. She managed a small smile and continued.

_"Looking back_

_I guess it's really for the best._

_Still, you're something that I crave._

_Even though I know_

_I was right to let you go,_

_You're a habit hard to break._

_I got used to being high_

_And nothing that I try_

_Seems good enough right now,_

_It's all so watered down._

_It's like having wine after whiskey. _

_It went from,_

_'Do anything for you, babe,' to_

_You don't even miss me._

_Once you've tasted a love that strong,_

_You can't go back and_

_You can't settle on anything less,_

_And that's what gets me._

_It's like having wine after whiskey._

_Once you've tasted a love that strong,_

_You can't go back and_

_You can't settle on anything less,_

_And that's what gets me._

_It's like having wine, _

_It's like having wine after whiskey."_

As the final piano noted faded, she signaled to her boss that she was taking her break to a smattering of applause from the nearly empty club. She sat down at the bar, and their bartender Jeremy set down a glass of red wine in from of her.

"I didn't order anything, you know I'm not supposed to drink on the job."

"I know, it's from her," he gestured at the brunette woman who looked like she was getting up to come over. "I tried to tell her, but she insisted. It's good, she said to get you a glass of the best, most expensive port we had."

He walked away as the woman sat down in the stool next to Santana.

"So who broke your heart?"

Santana looked startled at the woman's forwardness, and didn't answer.

"Because you can't sing a song like that without it being about somebody. That was the most amazing performance I've seen in a long time."

Santana studied the woman. She was short, probably about her own height, with caramel brown hair curled to frame her face, which was pale with a smattering of freckles across her nose. The most captivating thing about her, though, was her eyes, deep green with a ring of gold flecked around her pupils. She was attractive, Santana thought.

"Usually," she spoke slowly, "I like to know someone's name before I tell them my life story. And," she gestured at the drink, "I can't drink on the job."

"Oh, please," the woman answered, "It's one glass of wine. Fantastic wine. I've always preferred wine to whiskey myself. Wine warms you up, whiskey just burns."

She had an unnerving habit of maintaining eye contact, like she was willing Santana to understand some meaning behind her words. Strangely enough, Santana found that she wanted to. She sipped the wine.

"Santana," she introduced herself and stuck out her hand.

The woman took it. "Liz."

**A/N: So Brittany's pregnant, and Santana did not find out in the ideal way. And Santana's obviously still in love with her, but thinks it's really over now. And who is this Liz character anyway?**

**There will be a time jump to the next chapter, I've already started it.**

**Song in this chapter was _"_Wine After Whiskey" by Carrie Underwood. It's a fabulously depressing song (not in a bad way, just full of feels), you should listen to it.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hi! So, just a quick summary, this occurs four years after senior year in college (the last chapter) so everybody is 25-27ish now, I'm too lazy to do real math. This is just a little insight into how Santana's life is going. I think I'll try a chapter from Britt's POV next, but I'm not sure when it'll be out. So there. Enjoy!**

**p.s. I will admit I got the group email idea from another fic, but I seriously for the life of me can't remember which one or who wrote it, so if you're reading this, credit where credit is due, and remember, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.**

Chapter 4: Good in Goodbye

**_Hi everyone! This month, as you all probably know already, I got a callback for an original Broadway production entitled "True Beauty." I'll hear from the director in the next few weeks, hopefully I'll have more exciting news to share next month! Won't be in Lima for the holidays this year, my dads are coming here to visit me here in New York instead! Happy holidays to all of you!_**

**_~Rachel Berry_**

**_Hey y'all! Missing you New Yorkers a helluva lot (and feeling bad for you in this miserable December weather). Sunny L.A. is gorgeous! Hopefully I'll see y'all soon though, my tour is coming through NYC in February. I'm sending tickets and backstage passes to all of you, Santana, Rachel, Blaine, Kurt, and Quinn. Let me know if you need extras for boyfriends or girlfriends (Santana). Won't have time to head to Lima for Christmas this year, I'll be in Paris! Merry Christmas y'all!_**

**_~Mercedes Jones_**

**_Hey guys! (Liz says "hi" too) We'll be in Lima by the 21st for Christmas, hopefully we'll get to see some old familiar faces! Not much else to report, except that I got kickass Christmas gifts for all of you, so be prepared to lose at gift-giving (Liz agrees, she helped)._**

**_~Santana Lopez and Liz Peterson_**

**_Season's greetings! Blaine and I will be spending the Holidays in a Swiss mountain chalet with Burt and Carol this year, so unfortunately we'll be missing the festivities in Lima! Miss you all, and wish Blaine luck on the launch of his special Christmas themed line of bowties, coming soon to a store near you! Merry Christmas!_**

**_~Kurt and Blaine Hummel-Anderson_**

**_Hi everybody! Me and Amelia can't wait to see some friendly faces home for Christmas this year! She's grown so much, it'll shock you. She would also like me to tell you that she wants a pink pony for Christmas. Not a unicorn, because unicorns should be wild and free but ponies are pets. I agree. But please, don't get her a live pony, I think there's laws against that in Charleston. Yes, Kurt, I'm talking to you, you spoil her rotten. Anyway, I know a lot of you will be busy over Christmas, but hopefully some of you can make time for old friends! Merry Christmas!_**

**_XOXO Brittany and Amelia Pierce_**

Santana closes her laptop on the email, though she's not finished reading it yet. Rachel had started this monthly Glee club group email/newsletter over the summer between their junior and senior years in college; she said they needed to keep up with each others' lives better. Everyone sent Rachel a quick summary of any big news for the month, and she compiled it into one big email blast; Santana had to admit, it was a great idea, even if it had originally been started as a way for Rachel to brag about her achievements.

Because of the emails, she knew that Mercedes was on a world tour, Puck's pool cleaning business had expanded to pool maintenance and installation for the entire L.A. area, and Brittany had a daughter named Amelia, who was now three. She'd never seen or met her in person, but Britt had attached a picture every few months, and she was beautiful. Curly blonde hair that was a few shades lighter than Brittany's, and bright blue eyes that mirrored her mother's; she was going to be a beauty. Her father wasn't in the picture, as far as she knew, Brittany was raising her alone, in Charleston, where she'd gotten an apartment after graduating from MIT (8 months pregnant).

"Earth to Tana?"

She turned toward her girlfriend of almost three years (their anniversary of "making it official" was December 28th) and smiled.

"What? Oh, just thinking."

Liz was great. She was sharp, with a quick, sarcastic wit, clumsy as hell, and sweet when it counted (but not all the time). She was about 5' 3", with green eyes and caramel brown, wavy hair. It wasn't lost on Santana when they started dating that she had absolutely nothing in common with Brittany. They'd moved in together a year into their relationship, and were still going strong. She was someone that Santana could picture herself with, the first one since Britt. Liz knew the minimum about Brittany: that she was blonde with blue eyes, a Cheerio and in Glee club, Santana's high school best friend who she happened to fall in love with, and Santana's first, and previously only, serious girlfriend.

"About what?"

"Not many people coming back to Lima for Christmas this year, you're going to be stuck with me aaaaaaallllll the time."

"I think I'll live. Besides, your mom and I have all those baby pictures to get through. I think I'll be sufficiently entertained." She winked at Santana.

"You wouldn't."

Liz had met her parents before, but this was the first time she was visiting Lima; life and work had gotten in the way for so long, Santana had finally insisted that she come for the holidays. They'd spent Thanksgiving with Liz's dad in Wisconsin, Santana loved him. He and Liz were hilarious together, the way they jabbed at each other, she with his numerous failed marriages, him with her sexuality (it was all in good fun, she could tell that they loved each other, but it was like they were on a separate wavelength from everyone else in the room when they talked sometimes). She looked just like him, her facial features and mannerisms were identical, especially her eyes.

Santana packed up her laptop as their boarding group was called, hurrying, because the sooner she was on the plane, the sooner she'd be off the plane.

...

Christmas passed in a blur of colored lights, sparkles, snowflakes, and wrapping paper. Santana loved Christmas, the feeling of being surrounded by love, family, warmth, and good food.

Liz was a hit, but Santana knew she would be. She was great with her little cousins, and Santana found herself watching her when nobody was looking, deep in thought.

Now it was the 28th, and Santana had decided to take Liz to Breadstix for their anniversary. When she'd told Santana a few years ago that she'd never heard of Breadstix, Santana had pretended outrage, and insisted that they go when they were in Lima together. As the got out of the car, Santana glanced up to see a huge crowd walking out of the restaurant. Everyone in the crowd was obviously related, tall and blonde, and she realized it was the Pierces.

They parted for a moment, and she saw her. She was still as breathtaking as ever, laughing at something someone had said, with a little girl who could only be her daughter sitting on her shoulders, gripping the ears of a hat made to look like a cat, giggling along.

"You alright sweetheart?"

Santana looked at Liz blankly for a moment, "Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Let's go inside."

...

She was cold for the rest of the trip, and distant, and she knew it. She wasn't being fair to Liz, she knew that too, but she couldn't help but stay wrapped up in her own thoughts.

_Maybe me and Britt weren't meant to be, like we always thought. That little girl was beautiful, and Britt looked so happy, and I'm happy with Liz. I can't imagine Brittany without that little girl, the pictures of the two of them together, it was meant to be. If we'd been together, she wouldn't exist. Could this whole mess have been a good thing all along?_

But she couldn't help but imagine herself swinging that little girl around in a circle when she got home from work, kissing Britt on the cheek, making dinner.

She couldn't. She had to move on. She was happy. She could convince herself of that.

...

She still worked at the same jazz club her and Liz had met at three years ago, but part time now. She had a big girl job as the business manager of a studio where Broadway performers trained, which Rachel had written her a glowing reference for. She wasn't above name dropping if it meant a higher salary than somewhere else she could've worked.

She took the stage as she had so many times before, cuing the piano player to launch into on of her more practiced sets. Tonight was not the night to get fancy.

By the end of the evening, about 1 a.m., the bar had mostly cleared out, and Santana asked the piano player to start up one last song for her. One that she had heard on shuffle on her iPod during her flight home to New York. Ironically enough, it was on the same album as the song she'd sung the night she met Liz.

She had thinking to do, and a song to fit how she felt always helped her a bit, so when the piano player nodded and said, yes, he could play that one, she started.

"_I heard you laughing,_

_In a crowd outside a restaurant we used to go to._

_I caught a glimpse that stopped me in my tracks;_

_It took me back._

_You looked happy,_

_With that little girl up on your shoulders,_

_Happy._

_I know where she got those crystal eyes of blue._

_Time's been sweet to you._

_As bad as it was, as bad as it hurt,_

_I thank God I didn't get_

_What I thought that I deserved._

_Sometimes life leads you down a different road,_

_When you're holding on to someone_

_That you gotta let go._

_Someday you'll see the reason why_

_Sometimes, oh sometimes, there's good in goodbye._

_I don't regret it,_

_The time we had together,_

_I won't forget it,_

_But we both ended up where we belonged,_

_I guess goodbye made us strong._

_And I'm happy,_

_I've found somebody too, who makes me happy,_

_And I knew one day I'd see you on the street,_

_And it'd be bittersweet._

_But as bad as it was, as bad as it hurt,_

_I thank God I didn't get_

_What I thought that I deserved._

_Sometimes life leads you down a different road,_

_When you're holding on to someone_

_That you gotta let go._

_Someday you'll see the reason why_

_Sometimes, oh sometimes, there's good in goodbye._

_As bad as it was, as bad as it hurt,_

_I thank God I didn't get_

_What I thought that I deserved._

_Sometimes life leads you down a different road,_

_When you're holding on to someone_

_That you've got to let go._

_Someday you'll see the reason why_

_Sometimes, oh sometimes, there's good in goodbye."_

Yes, she had a lot of thinking to do.

**A/N: Song in this one is "Good in Goodbye" by Carrie Underwood**


End file.
